


Keeping Me Alive

by dreamingoutloud



Series: Flawed-The Enjolras/Grantaire Song Fic Collection [10]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Adorkable, Artist Grantaire, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, In Which Enjolras Is Trying To Save the World, M/M, Married Couple, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Same-Sex Marriage, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:05:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6471037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamingoutloud/pseuds/dreamingoutloud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Working to change the world is exhausting.  But Enjolras has two very good reasons to want to make the world a better place, and he's willing to fight for them day in and day out.  That doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy those quiet moments at home alone with his little family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Me Alive

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elliebeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebeth/gifts).



> No, I didn't die. No, I didn't forget this series existed. I've been way overworked and stressed lately. But Em put this idea in my head and I couldn't shake it and it had to be written so I guess I'm back?? It's short, but it's pure fluff.
> 
> The next in the Flawed series is based on Keeping Me Alive by The Afters.
> 
> "It's like I never lived  
> Before my life with you  
> So much was missing here  
> I never even knew  
> I still picture the place we were  
> When I fell into your world"

For once, he was actually on time. And he was irrationally relieved. In his defense, it had been over a week since he'd been able to make dinner for his family, to tuck his daughter into bed, and to fall asleep by his husband's side. Things had just been so hectic at work, constantly having rallies to attend, petitions to write, speeches to finish. He loved his work. It made a difference and he knew that. That didn't make it any easier to come home at midnight to a sleepy and unresponsive husband and a baby girl who often asked if he still lived there. 

Quietly, he placed his wallet and keys on the side table next to the door. The Sophia the First backpack on the floor beside it and Maleficent's leash were subtle but comforting reminders of home. He made his way through the living room to the eat-in kitchen, where the two loves of his life sat side by side at the table. Enjolras couldn't help grinning at the image that greeted him. Despite the two of them having no shared blood between them, the pair looked almost identical. Grantaire's dark curly head was bent, one arm bent, holding the book in place while the other held a green crayon carefully. Beside him, their daughter Emilie mirrored him, her purple crayon in her right hand where her father's was in his left. Their heads were tilted towards each other, and Enjolras heard murmuring about dogs. 

He watched for another moment before stepping the rest of the way into the room. Resting one hand on Grantaire's shoulder, he used the other to ruffle his little girl's brown wavy hair. He bent slightly to kiss her cheek, then turned to meet Grantaire's already awaiting mouth for a soft kiss. "Hi, you two," he said with a soft smile. Emilie was beaming up at him, holding out her coloring book for his appraisal. 

"Papa! Me and Daddy have been doing art!" Her little face radiated pride as Enjolras took the book from her and looked it over. The farm scene seemed normal and chipper, but the piglet was purple and the cow was green. The tractor behind them was a mix of red, white, and blue. 

Enjolras glanced down and the look in his husband's eyes seemed to be daring him to challenge the girl's choices. Instead, he leaned backwards against the kitchen table, between the two of them. "Your piggy is purple today?" he questioned instead, a smile curving at the edges of his mouth. Grantaire gave a hint of a nod, approval obvious in his expression as he got to his feet.

Emilie grinned, taking the coloring book back and settling back down to begin coloring the sun orange. "Daddy says I don't have to use normal colors. My piggy can be whatever color I want it to be." 

Across the kitchen, Grantaire was filling a glass of milk. "That's right," he confirmed, a smirk on his face. "Don't you dare let anyone stop your creativity. Not even that mean old Papa." 

Rolling his eyes, Enjolras stuck his tongue out at his husband. "I never once said you couldn't be as creative as your heart desires," he told Emilie, scooping her up into his arms. "Your pig is beautiful. I love your green cow, too. Will he match the grass?" 

Her little face looked thoughtful as her nose scrunched and her eyes squinted. Finally, she fixed Enjolras with a very serious face for a four year-old. "No. That would be silly. Cows aren't the same color as grass."

From the kitchen counter, a scoffing sound came out of the glass of milk in Grantaire's hand. Enjolras grinned brightly. "Well, obviously not. That was a pretty ridiculous question of me, wasn't it? What color should the grass be, then, I wonder?"

"Yellow," Grantaire confirmed, moving closer to nuzzle Emilie's stomach from her position in Enjolras' arms. "Why don't you start clearing up our coloring supplies, little mousekin? Daddy and I can get to work on dinner, then."

Enjolras had just enough time for one last kiss before she'd squirmed her way down to the ground, scurrying to grab her crayons. "Will you help me sign my name like you do on all your paintings?" she asked, shooting big brown eyes up at Grantaire. His cheeks colored a bit, but he nodded. "Maybe tonight before bed we'll sign all of our drawings," he agreed.

Their daughter skipped out of the room, carrying a basket of art supplies, and Enjolras watched her go, that overwhelming feeling of love still filling him. It still amazed him every day that this was his life. For so long he'd pushed away everyone and everything. Most of his life had been spent focusing only on the next cause, the next challenge to tackle to make the world better. But he couldn't deny how much better his own world was with these two in it. With the man who'd captured his heart and the little girl who had stolen both of theirs. And the better he felt, the more he could offer everyone around him.

"She'll be starting school soon," he said quietly, glancing at Grantaire from the corner of his eye as he pulled out a package of chicken from the refrigerator. The subject had the potential to be a sensitive one with his husband. Grantaire had been enjoying teaching their daughter from home, using his much more flexible work schedule as his reasoning for not sending her off to a private daycare as Enjolras had initially suggested. And Enjolras did have to admit, the brunet had done incredible things. The child wasn't even five yet and she was already reading basic books, speaking properly in adult conversations, and doing simple math. In order to fend off any potential fight, he quickly rushed on. "If you wanted to home school her, I'm sure we could find out more information easily enough."

To his surprise, though, Grantaire took the subject in stride. He smiled, leaning up to kiss the blond gently. "She should be with kids her own age. Hanging around Combeferre's kids isn't enough of a social life for any daughter of yours."

Enjolras couldn't help but blush. It still fascinated him sometimes how the man knew him. In some ways, he always had. Grantaire was the most observant person he'd ever met. Possibly because of all the time he spent quietly watching the world around him. If he was being honest with himself, though, he knew it was because the artist had studied him intently long before either of them had gotten their acts together, as Joly would have said. "I just want her to have every possible opportunity. There's so many children in the world with no access to education..."

Before he could continue, Grantaire held a hand up. "You know how much I love when you go off on your rants about third world countries, but not right now, handsome. I was sort of looking forward to this chicken alfredo and if you get started, you won't stop until sometime tomorrow morning." Enjolras rolled his eyes but Grantaire was already getting the chicken cut up and into a heated pan. 

There was a steady rhythm of them cooking together. They'd done it so many times. There were nights when Enjolras worked late or traveled for work. There were also times when Grantaire would get wrapped up in a painting for the night. And, of course, there were plenty of times when the family went out for dinner together, or when Enjolras would join him for a gallery opening. But these moments were somehow ten times more perfect. Occasionally they'd let Emilie help, too. The little girl was allowed to help measure water, stir the things that weren't on the stove, and she especially loved making cookie dough. 

It was a part of their family. The way it all came together, the easy way they did everything in sync. The two of them didn't even have to exchange words as they moved around the kitchen. Without being asked, Enjolras started on the sauce while Grantaire steamed the spinach, the only vegetable Emilie was currently insisting on.

***

"Tell me another one," Emilie insisted, sitting up in bed. The soft pink comforter fell off of her shoulders and Enjolras had to laugh. She certainly got points for pure obstinance. 

Gently, he reached for her, easing her back under the covers. "Sorry, princess. It's past time for you to be sleeping." 

She may not have shared blood with Grantaire, but she certainly had learned to mimic all of his facial expressions. The pout she was shooting Enjolras just then was unmistakebly her father's, right down to the little scrunch of her eyebrows. And just like with him, Enjolras was very, very tempted to cave in. Especially when she used her tiny, hurt voice to guilt trip him. "You're never home to tell me stories anymore." 

It was as if a knife had been placed through his heart. "It hasn't been that long, darling," he told her quietly, though he knew to a child, even a few days was too many. "And you've got Daddy telling you far better stories than I ever could."

Emilie's brown eyes narrowed into a glare. "His stories aren't as good. He's better at art things. And he doesn't do the funny voices."

Apparently, Grantaire wasn't very far down the hallway because they heard a very distinct, "Hey!". Enjolras had to laugh. "His stories are brilliant, thank you," he defended. "But I promise, we're just about down with this very big project and just as soon as we are, I'll be home every night for at least a few months." 

Though she seemed to still take offense to that idea, Emilie gave a tiny nod and reached up her small arms for a huge, which Enjolras was more than happy to provide. He took a long moment to just hold her, breathing in that scent of baby shampoo and Frozen bubble bath and laundry soap that belonged solely to his little girl. "Goodnight, Papa," she murmured, her big eyes already starting to droop closed.

"Goodnight, little princess," he said softly, tucking her into the bed. He got to his feet to turn away and saw a shadow leaning in the doorway. Smiling, he placed a finger against his lips and urged Grantaire back into the hallway. He'd already gotten to say goodnight, after all, and the second Emilie saw him, she was likely to demand another story. Despite having just complained about the quality of said stories.

He left the door open a crack before following Grantaire to their bedroom only two doors down. Without speaking, without even needing to exchange a word between them, he reached out and slowly began undressing the man he loved. The one who had somehow taken over his life in almost every possible way.

"I've missed you," Grantaire murmured, ducking his head enough to start a trail of kisses along Enjolras' throat. 

Blue eyes closed instinctively and he found himself murmuring a soft, "you, too," before he gently pushed his husband towards the bed. He really did hate being away from the two of them as much as he was. They were his entire life. But they were also his inspiration. The world they lived in was awful for raising a child. He wanted to make it better. 

So he'd accept these moments, these beautiful moments where his husband and his daughter brought light into his life, so that he could turn around and spread light elsewhere. To others, who weren't nearly as lucky as he was.


End file.
